Gary Bother and the Shiny Rock o' Magic
by KalliopeStarmist
Summary: Gary leaves behind his disfunctional distant relations and braves evil bowling balls, fluffy puppies, teachers who can really hold a grudge, and the occasional mortal enemy at Pigpimple School for Warlocks and Weirdos.
1. The Boy Very Few People Remembered

Gary Bother and The Quest for the Shiny Rock O' Magic.

Ch. 1, The Boy Very Few People Remembered.

Dedicated to Chronically Insane, who, among other things, has endured and supported years of HP related madness, and without whom Gary would have parents, but no adventures.

It was a summer morning just like any other summer morning. Parents who had to literally drag their children out of bed on a school day woke to the sound of loud and joyous shrieks as youngsters everywhere rose at the crack of dawn. In Colorado, U.S.A., two boys went bowling at 6:00. In the U.K., an alert tropical fish saved several lives. And at number 16, Rivet Road, Mr. Venom Dungbeetle got ready for work.

He carefully selected a navy blue suit and a plaid tie. Today was Casual Friday. He passed his wife, Petulant, and their son, Studley, on his way out the door. Petty wore a determined look, like someone who has resolved to call up an estranged family member. Studley was attempting to hit the picture on the wall with his stringed carrots.

The day started badly. There was a traffic jam caused by a large explosion in the street. Some men were leading away a rather hysterical man. Venom turned off to take a detour. If he had waited, he would have seen Will Smith come onto the scene.

"I want you all to look at this, right over here. That's it."

At work, the day went by slowly until Ed, in Marketing, forgot and drank coffee from the machine. As the ambulance carried the unfortunate salesman away, Mr. Dungbeetle found himself listening to a nearby car radio.

"Hello, secret community!" the announcer piped, "Today is indeed a happy day. Today it has been made official that the Bother residence..." The voice faded as the car pulled away.

Hmm, thought Venom. The mention of the Bothers bothered him. What could his in-laws have done to be on the radio? No, it could not have been them. Bother must be a very common last name, he assured himself.

While walking up his driveway at 7:00, Mr. Dungbeetle scared off a large black cat.

"$& it, Seylin! Come back here THIS INSTANT." yelled a strange, disembodied voice.

The cat disappeared. Venom ignored it. The author had obviously forgotten not to make references to obscure books, he thought. She should try to remember that most of the readers get confused easily.

Lost in his own thoughts, he did not notice the small, calico cat walk tipsily over to the garden wall.

"How was your day, dear?" Petulant greeted him.

He watched Studley playing with the staple gun as he answered. "Oh, not bad. Someone drank some of that 'coffee' again, and the narrator made an obscure reference."

"I do wish she would stop. Yesterday a chicken coop with Christmas lights flew over the house! What was she thinking?"

The Dungbeetles had several more amusing hours of abusing the narrator's writing abilities, which completely pushed all thoughts of the Bothers out of Venom's mind.

Meanwhile, out on the street, a man dressed like Gandalf, only with a huge, turquoise cowboy hat and matching boots had arrived. He pulled a rather impressive cell phone out of his pocket, and plugged it into an outlet in Mrs. Shwindelman's garden. The lights went out all over the block, save for a blue glow from the power-consuming phone. He went over to sit next to the cat, who had fallen off the wall several times since the afternoon. The man also walked rather drunkenly.

"Dear (hic) prof(hic)fessor Mc(hic)Donald. What are you (hic) doing(hic) here?" the man tended to slur his words.

"Doubledoor, I (giggle) was (hic) waiting for (hic) you." said the cat, who had turned into a rather disheveled woman. "How (hic) did you (hic) know it was me?"

"I've never seen a cat fall (hic) off a wall (giggle) so many times. Didn't you go to any parties(hic) tonight?"

"Yeah, but I (hic) left when the (hic) alcohol ran out. Is it true (hic) that Sil (hic) Sil (hic) Silly and (hic) Thames di (hic) di (hic) kicked the bucket (giggle)?"

"Fraid so, m'(hic)dear. But so did (hic) Moldy(hic)Shorts (giggle)."

"Hey, don't say (hic) his (hic) name (giggle). The cat-woman slurred as she threw a feeble punch at her plastered companion.

"I'll say it all I want. Moldy(hic)shorts, Moldyshorts!" he roared drunkenly a the silent street.

"Hey, (hic) did you bring the (hic) the (hic) kid?"

"Oh yeah. Damn. Wait, I'll call up Ragged. He can pick him up."

The couple sobered up very quickly, considering that they both had enough liquor in them to give an lesser person a hangover. Both had forgotten the Bothers' small child, Gary.

McDonald took a swig of whisky out of a bottle as Doubledoor called up Ragged on his cell.

"Hey, Ragged, how's things on your end? ....Good. Good... Yes, I believe they are... No, I don't know why they canceled Friends. Oh, could you swing by the Bother residence and pick up Gary? No, Ragged, Gary Bother... No... NO!... Just take him to 16, Rivet Road. Yeah. Okay, see you soon.

Well, that's settled. He'll be here soon. Give me a swig of that. I do believe I need some."

"Say, how long have Silly and Thames been dead, do you think?" asked McDonald as

she handed over the bottle.

"About since last night. We didn't know until this morning, though."

"And all that time, nobody thought about their son?"

"Nope. All they really said was that he was Moldy short's downfall."

Ragged arrived then, on the same flying bike used in ET. He was a fairly large man, but we'll describe him in another chapter. So just hold on for now. He had a small baby who was sleeping, probably tired out from hunger.

(If you haven't guessed, I think that it is disgraceful that they left Harry the wreckage of his home for a whole day, and that the entire magical community, his neighbors, and his godfather didn't even think to look for him. But back to the story)

The child had a thunder shaped cut on his forehead. The group smeared some antiseptic on it, wrapped him up, and then looked at Doubledoor expectantly.

"What? Just put him on the door, I'll tuck this letter in with him, and we can vamoose."

"Don't you think that we should knock on the door, or try to explain this in person? I mean, this woman's sister just died! Do you think that she wants to find out in a letter? What if it rains? What if someone steals him? What if they can't take him in?" McDonald asked anxiously.

"They're the only family he has. They have to take him in. Anyway, we're in the suburbs. It's not like the big bad wolf is going to eat him or something."

So they placed little Gary on the door step, got good and drunk, and sang him off with a loud chorus of Desperado. Then, Doubledoor unplugged his cell phone, and they disappeared into the night.

They had forgotten about the letter, so the next morning, fighting a hangover, Doubledoor typed something up quick, and sent via E-mail to the Dungbeetles. 


	2. And Now For Something Completely Differe...

Ch. 2: And Now For Something Completely Different.

This chapter is for my brother, who is going to know the whole plot of every Harry Potter book ever written even if I have to put it all in parody form, dagnamitt!

Sorry this took so long, my teachers don't understand that I have a life outside of their classes. Not much of a life, but a life, none the less.

The morning sunlight streamed onto the gardens and peaked into the windows. It was the dawn of a new day on Rivet Drive. Not much had changed since little Gary had been deposited on his relatives' doorstep. In fact, the only way to tell that any time had gone by at all was the white lettering on the lower portion of the screen. "10 years later" it read.

Gary woke and got dressed, then stepped out of the linen closet, a.k.a. his bedroom. He paused in front of the hall mirror. He was a beefy man, in his late forties, built along the lines of a football player, with a bald spot poking through his neatly groomed, graying hair. Standing beside him was a tall, angular woman with features that suggested more than one face lift.

No, wait, that wasn't the hall mirror! That was a picture of Gary's aunt and uncle.Author's note: when you use a clever little writing device to sneak in descriptions, its considered really good writing. ;)

Gary moved to the REAL hall mirror. It showed a short, skinny kid with coke bottle glasses and really weird, dark hair that, apparently acting on it's own, formed inch-long spikes. His eyes were green (original, huh?), and he had a scar shaped like a bolt of thunder (you figure it out).

Gary really liked this scar. It was a little memento from the freak plumbing accident that had killed his parents. It was the only thing that he had to remember them by, as his relatives had told him that Silly and Thames (his parents, remember chapter 1?) had been members of an obscure religion that did not believe in having pictures taken. Mostly, he liked his scar because it was a talking point at school.

Aunty Petulant was making a traditional All-American breakfast, with bacon, eggs, pancakes, orange juice, corn dogs, and apple pie. Gary paused only momentarily to consider that this was odd, since they lived in England. His aunt glanced at him, and immediately burst into tears and ran out of the room.

Gary sighed and put on an apron. This was normal for his aunt. He threw an annoyed glance at his uncle and cousin, who, as usual, did not make any move to help him.

Uncle Venom looked up from his morning paper, wiped the annoyance off his face and yelled at Gary not to throw things. Studley had ducked to avoid the sharp glance, and now he straightened his pointy hat and commenced eating his cake which had little party sprinkles in it, and "y! hda" written on it. Uncle Venom, done yelling at Gary, looked over at his son.

"Hey! Didn't I tell you not to eat any cake until your party? You haven't even had breakfast!"

"I had breakfast before you got up!" Studley quickly lied, but his father wasn't buying it, "And it's my birthday, so shouldn't I be allowed?" Venom continued to glare. "And umm, this is healthy?" No response. "Mom said I could!" Venom smiled and patted his son on the back.

"Good for you, m'boy! Learning how to blame the other guy is a vital management skill. You'll go far someday if you keep it up."

After this smattering of praise, Studley opened several presents, including a X-Box, one of the Sims Expansion Packs, a pack of cards, a subscription to MAD magazine, and a gift certificate to the nearby 7-11. He was opening a pair of socks when Aunt Petulant came bursting into the kitchen.

"Bad news, Venom, Anna can't take the kid." Aunt Petulant groaned.

"Why the hell not? Does she want more money or something?" Uncle Venom bellowed.

"No, something about her mother being in the hospital, and then she has to give a kidney or something."

"Some people are just plain inconsiderate. She shouldn't have promised to take him if she had an engagement."

Gary was listening with interest. Annapolis Fraggle was an insane middle aged lady who owned about nine guinea pigs, and who loved nothing better than to knit scarves. Gary went to stay with her when the Dungbeetles went on vacation, and came back with an average of fourteen scarves a visit. He hated it there. Ms. Fraggle called him Harry a lot, and made him watch her precious pets poop and make those little eep noises. Her house smelled like Lysol. The Dungbeetles were leaving him there while they took Studley to the circus.

"Well, we can't leave him here. Damn child safety laws," Uncle Venom was saying.

"Oh, like what child-protection laws haven't you broken anyway? He sleeps in the linen closet, we lock him in the closet when we want him out of the way, he hasn't had a new pair of clothes since he was a baby, and none of the neighbors know he exists!" Aunt Petulant shrieked.

They argued a bit more. "We can't leave him in the car, he'll suffocate." "We can't leave him in the grocery store parking lot" etc., etc.. Studley grew bored. He didn't really care if Gary crashed the party. Most of the time, Studley was poking Gary in the back of the head anyway. It was his idea of a sport.

"For god's sake, just take him with us. Maybe we can throw him in the tiger pit or something." Studley spoke up.

"Yeah, thanks, Stud."

And so it happened that Gary ended up at the Flying Cir-cus with his distant relatives and a couple of Studley's friends. Gary got up and wandered around during the act on the pretense of getting some cotton candy. His seat was right in front of Studley and he already had a bruise on his neck from various fingers jabbing into his spine.

He paused in front of the reptile display. How odd, he thought. Most circuses don't have zoo exhibits. One cage had a large, orange boa in it. He looked at the python. Monty, the sign read, is a Brazilian python, native to Brazil.

Gary looked at the lizard. It looked back. Gary propped his head on his arm. It propped its head on its tail. Gary blinked. It blinked back. Gary laughed. It laughed back.

"So," said Gary, "what's a snake like you doing in a place like this?"

Monty jabbed his tail at the info sign. Gary dusted it off, and read. "Monty was born and raised in captivity."

"Oh. I guess you don't have much choice," Gary felt a little sorry for the snake. "So, umm, is there anything I can get you? Like, a hot dog or something?"

"Well, I would really like a large diet coke, if it isn't much trouble," Monty whispered to

Gary.

Just then, Studley and Co. burst onto the scene. "Hey, Girlie, Mom and Dad are ready to leave, and..."

But Studley never did finish his sentence. Monty had asked Gary, very quietly, "hey, is this jerk bothering you?" and no sooner had Gary nodded than Monty Python had launched himself through the open cage door and lunged straight for Studley. The snake didn't hurt him, he just kept sliding, probably towards the concession stands, to buy his long awaited diet coke.

"Hey, the Pyrex is gone!" one of Studley's friends screamed. And he was right. The Pyrex window that had previously held Monty captive had disappeared.

All of Studley's friends agreed that it was definitely the best birthday party ever, and would his cousin be coming next year.

Gary was immediately locked in his linen closet by his relatively evil relatives. He sighed, and turned on the green lava lamp on the end table. Why did this kind of thing happen to him? He tended to be in places were weird things happen. Like when Ms. Fraggle tried to force him into a dress for tea time last summer, and the dress had caught fire. Or when the teacher had tried to give him a detention, and her pen started squirting ink everywhere. Or when he had put lemon juice in his hair and went out in the sun, and his hair had turned bright blue. He sung a few choruses of Desperado to himself to pass the time.

Due to popular demand, I am taking a poll to see who should be the drunken professor at school. All professors are fair game. Send your vote to me via email. (my address is available at my profile)


	3. Attack of the Junk Mail!

Chapter 3, Attack of the Junk Mail!

Dedicated to the creators of the Potter Puppet Pals ), a dedicated and all-around wonderful group of people who are **not** _directly_ responsible for the tripe you are about to read. They are more than worth the trouble of downloading. I highly recommend them. They are the funniest people on earth. Once you see them, you will understand why it is Gary Bother and not Gary Glassware or something. Naked Time forever!!!!!

I worry about the Slytherins in Harry Potter. I mean, they have names like Severus and Lucius and Draco. No wonder they're so...evil. I mean, look at Snape. Case in point. He goes all his life with a name like Severus.(hee, hee. Severus.) And he gets to school, and everyone there has normal names, so he picks out the most normal of all of them, and boom, instant life long enemy. This has nothing to do with the chapter, I just think its interesting.

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Gary was in his closet for the longest time ever after the Circus incident. When he got out, school was out, Studley had lost his pack of cards, torn holes in his new socks, and managed to put Mrs. Fraggle in the emergency room by slipping her a slushie bought with his 7-11 gift card while she was recovering from surgery. Gary figured that the social service people must have lost track of him or something. Oh well. He liked his closet. It was quite nice. For a linen closet.

Gary was walking down to breakfast early one morning. His aunt was having a good day, and did not burst from the room crying. Gary was just sitting down with the plate of oatmeal she handed him when the door bell rung twice, which was the mailman's way of alerting the Dungbeetles that their mail had arrived.

"Studley, go get the mail" Uncle Venom barked.

"Gary, go get the mail," Studley whined.

"Aunty, could you get the mail?" Gary asked politely.

"Venom, get the mail," Aunt Petulant snapped.

"Studley, go get the mail" Uncle Venom barked.

"Gary, go get the mail," Studley whined.

"Aunty, could you get the mail?" Gary inquired

"Venom, get the mail," Aunt Petulant barked.

"Studley, go get the mail" Uncle Venom snapped.

"Gary, go get the mail," Studley whined.

"Aunty, could you get the mail?" Gary asked.

"Venom, get the mail," Aunt Petulant snapped.

"Gary, get the mail. Now!" Uncle Venom demanded.

"Gary, get the mail... D'OH!" Gary said.

So Gary fought his way down the hall and over to the mail delivery slot. There were several letters addressed to his relatives. A bill, a postcard showing Honolulu at night, and an LL Bean catalog. And something for him. Gary stared at it for a while.

"To Mr. G. Bother,

Closet 3,

#16 Rivet Road,

Whirligig,

Survey"

It was written on a creamy paper with a weight of maybe 30 or 40. Not your average, run-of-the-mill paper. Gary sniffed the envelope. The ink smelled like cherries. Gary looked closer. It seemed to be changing colors. Must be the light, Gary thought, as it changed from purple to bright yellow. Instead of a return address, there was a wax seal.

Gary immediately took the letter to his relatives. It was obviously a bomb. No return, hand lettered, no stamp, even. He could take a hint.

Aunt Petulant practically fainted when she saw it. "How could... But... We can't let him go...They know where he sleeps...what to do..."

Uncle Venom roared and threw Studley and Gary into the back yard.

Gary kicked the garden wall in frustration. "It wasn't some nut case. It was someone they know! I want my letter back."

Studley seemed just as curious. "Yeah, did you hear what mom was saying? Its like someone has been blackmailing them, and they threatened you or something. I would kill to have that letter."

The two cousins' eyes met. "Hey, Studley. Maybe we could gang up together. You know..."

"Yeah! We could formulate a plan. If this person is serious about reaching you, then they'll send another letter, and we could come up with a plan to get it before my parents do..." They looked at each other again, eyes shining with excitement. A chance to work together, to become friends. Then they started to laugh.

"Nah."

The next day, four similarly addressed letters arrived for Gary. One was very much the same as the first, the others were ads for used cars. Gary threw it all away, planning to come back and fish them out again when his relatives weren't looking. Venom figured that one out quick, though.

Next day, three overdue library notices, a credit card ad, and an entry for a beauty contest arrived. After asking Gary if he had been giving out his address or if he belonged to the library, Venom trashed them all. Day after, and Studley went to get the mail.

"Hey, Gary! You got a credit card bill, you may have already won a million dollars, a postcard from sunny Acapulco, an invitation to an exciting time-share opportunity, George Bush wants your vote (this fic has officially been dated) ,you may have already won another million dollars, another invitation to a time-share thing, a sample of 17 magazine, an Oriental Trading Co. Catalog, John Kerry wants your vote, if you were to die today, what would happen to your family, what to look for in a college, exciting scholarship opportunities are just around the corner, the FBI came while you were out, hey, another one of those scented-ink letters, and... YES! My MAD mag came!"

Studley called before dashing up the stairs with the latest issue from the usual gang of idiots. Gary, Petulant, and Venom had rounded the corner, and stopped. Aunt Petulant fainted before anyone could catch her, but, fortunately, she fell on the huge pile of letters to Gary. The front hall had already vanished, and the mail man was still shoving letters through the slot. Venom swam through the letters to the door.

"Hey, Ed? You can just leave them on the porch..." He yelled at the disgruntled postal worker, then turned to his family. "So, whose up for s'mores tonight?"

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Gary was sitting on his bed on the third shelf of the linen closet, feeling slightly sick from the letter-roasted marshmallows he had been eating. He had tried to find the letter in the pile like the first one, but in the mass of junk mail, it had proved impossible. Oh well. It was probably just a high-class pyramid scheme type thing. He was staring at his poster of Kermit the Frog that was attached to the board above him. "Eats Flies, Dates a Pig. Hollywood Star" it read. The door opened, and Uncle Venom walked in.

"Hey. Have a seat." Gary pointed at the space between the floor and the first shelf as he climbed down to the living room level of his closet. Uncle Venom seated himself on a squashy, tie-die beanbag, looking at the cool lava lamp, the mirrors, and the posters of Weird Al, iguanas, kittens, and other such jovial things. He leafed through "The Far Side Gallery 4" before placing it carefully back on the glass coffee table. He flipped through the channels on Gary's little television while Gary stopped on the second level of the closet to grab a soda out of his mini-fridge.

"Hey, do you want anything to drink, or something?" he asked

"Just a Shockingly Refreshing Sierra Mist(r), please. I like what you've done with this place. It does seem a bit cozy, though. Wouldn't you like to have more space, maybe a window?" Uncle Venom asked enticingly.

"Well, I do like having these levels. It keeps me organized. You know, living room on the bottom, then kitchen, then bed, then office, storage space. I've been saving up those coins that you leave in the couch, and I'm thinking of getting a laptop with satellite Internet and some more RAM. My Sims games are starting to freeze on me."

Uncle Venom stared at his nephew. The entire rest of the house didn't have this much cool stuff. "Yeah, I see your point. But I think that it would be healthier for you to be in a real room. I mean, you fit okay now, but in a few years... and I was thinking, maybe you would like Studley's old bedroom." Studley had recently moved his stuff to the basement, which was a much cooler place to hang out. So there was an extra bedroom.

"SWEET! When do I move in?"

The new room had all the furniture that he needed, which was good, because Gary soon found that all of his furniture had been designed for the small confines of the closet. Fortunately the microwave, mini-fridge, and coffee table fit well enough. As Gary put them down, some plaster fell out of the ceiling. He put his posters over the large cracks in the walls. The room had a dresser, desk, bed, and, on one wall, a huge bookshelf. Gary put his stuff away and went to examine the dusty old books. "The Secret Life of Bees" "To Kill a Mockingbird" "Black Beauty". Boring. Probably Petulant's old books. She had lived in this house all her life. Gary went over to plug in his Lava Lamp. He didn't notice that the other books included "A Gurgle-Born's Guide to the World" "They Don't Understand: Balancing Your Family and Your New Powers" "Dragons, Dragons, and Other Mythical Beasts, by Someone Who is Not Eric Carl" (Author Note: Eric Carl's Dragons, Dragons was one of my favorite books as a kid) and "Squid-Itch, an Eon of Fun."

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The next morning, which happened to be the day before his birthday, Gary tried to sleep in, but a loud shooting noise woke him. He heard screaming on the street.

RATTATTATTATTATATTATATAT! Hmm, sounds like a machine gun, thought Gary as about 50 bullets sailed through the window, over his head, and into his miniature kitchen appliances.

"Come out, come out where ever you are!" sang a voice that sounded a lot like Ed, the mailman.

"Should we wake the kid?" Aunt Petulant's voice came in a whisper from the hall.

"Nah, we'll leave him to his fate. Hurry up, he'll break through the door any minute now" Uncle Venom responded.

Gary, keeping low to the ground, slowly pushed open his door and entered the hallway. "What's going on? Who's shooting?"

His relatives rolled their eyes. "Not now, Gary, just go downstairs with Studley and follow him. Tell him that we'll be there in a second. Be as quiet as possible." Uncle Venom hissed.

So Gary and his equally confused cousin went into the back yard, and crawled under shrubbery, through fences, and over to a dilapidated old garage that Gary knew Uncle Venom kept a car in, in case he needed to flee the country. His aunt and uncle met him there.

"What is going on?" Gary asked as they drove away.

"The mail man went postal. He's been delivering mail for ten years, and all this junk mail coming to you just drove him over the edge. He's been shooting at the house, demanding we give you up."

Gary glanced out the window as they drove by Rivet Road. Most of the street was covered with junk mail. A lot of it looked like the mysterious letter that had started it all.

"Where are we going?" asked Gary.

"If it were up to me, you wouldn't be going at all." Venom snorted

"Yeah, where are we going?"whined Studley.

"Never you mind." Venom snapped.

"Actually, Venom, I was wondering the same thing." Petulant stated.

Venom didn't answer her, but after a few hours it was obvious that they were headed to the cabin on the lake that the Dungbeetles had bought at a time share seminar. Everybody hated it. It was impossible to get to in a car this time of year, because the lake tended to flood, making an island that was taken up entirely by the little one room shack.

"All right, Everybody in!!" Uncle Venom yelled at his silent family, pointing at a no longer seaworthy craft. He was beginning to act a bit like poor old Ed. Petulant drew Studley and Gary away from her husband. "Well, what are you waiting for?" Venom asked.

The family climbed warily into the little canoe. No one had forgotten the infamous trip when they all ended up with hypothermia and leeches. Uncle Venom was humming a song from West Side Story.

For dinner they had some Twinkies that Petulant had grabbed from the house before leaving. They tried to heat up some instant coffee, but they couldn't get the Twinkie wrappers to catch fire. So they gave up. Venom wanted them to sing some cheery type of camp song, but Gary suggested Desperado, and everyone dropped the subject.

Instead, they went to sleep. Or tried to. Petulant and Venom made a tent type thing out of blankets and the old couch, Studley found an old sleeping bag, and Gary found a dead raccoon.

So Gary curled up as far away from the raccoon as possible, and wished he was back in his closet, his mini fridge still intact, and no mysterious letters bothering him or driving his distantly related family insane.

He was wishing that things would go back to their normal, pitiful state so hard, that he didn't notice Studley's watch go off, proclaiming it midnight, and therefore, Gary's 11th birthday, nor did he notice the knocks on the door, which grew increasingly loud, hard, and impatient the longer they were ignored.


	4. Will the Skeleton in Closet 1 Please Com...

Ch. 4. Will the Skeleton In Closet #1 Please Come Out?

Okay, this is dedicated to J. K. Rowling. And I know, that if she ever reads this humble parody, she will laugh, and remember that imitation is the most sincere form of flattery. And she will forgive this little savaging of the books that she took years to write. And that if I accidentally make the entire world aware of some big surprise-ending thing through some casual remark that I didn't know the significance of, she will forgive that too. I hope.

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"BANG! BANG! Flop." Went the door as the mysterious knocker banged on it. The door sort of crumbled into a dust one usually finds in the bottom of a high-power blender.

The man that I described throughly in Ch. 1 walked in. As the audience knows, but the Dungbeetles and Gary did not, this was the man who had delivered Gary to #16 Rivet Road on that fateful night ten-ish years ago.

"HEY! Wait just a cotton-pickin' minute! You didn't describe me in chapter one!" shouted the man.

Did too. Remember? Here, Flash-back time. There is a pause while Kalliope Starmist finds chapter one on her word processor and does a nifty cut and paste number.

_Ragged arrived then, on the same flying bike used in ET. He was a fairly large man, but we'll describe him in another chapter. So just hold on for now. He had a small baby who was sleeping, probably tired out from hunger. _

_(If you haven't guessed, I think that it is disgraceful that they left Harry the wreckage of his home for a whole day, and that the entire magical community, his neighbors, and his godfather didn't even think to look for him. But back to the story)_

"We'll describe... tired from hunger... disgraceful...back to the..." a voice echoed eerily through the room. "Damn. You're right. Hold on. I'll just add a paragraph here and... Voila!"

The man who entered had a big hairy beard, really bushy eyebrows, and (cue Psycho music) (REEH REEH REEH! DUN-Nah Dun-Nah) a tangled, messy Mega-MULLET! He was wearing a Metallica shirt that must have been a size tall and XXXL. He was also wearing a black leather jacket and black leather biker pants.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" screamed Studley. "We're being attacked by a middle-aged rocker who won't admit his generation is past its prime!" Studley then hid behind his parents. Uncle Venom pointed his handy-dandy hand gun at the attacker.

"Don't come any closer. I have a Constitutional Right and Duty to protect my family... eep." Venom looked down and saw that his gun had turned into a bright green squirt gun.

The stranger turned to Gary. "So, Gary. Long time no see. You weren't more than that high off the ground when I last saw you. Sorry you had trouble gettin' those letters. Found out that you didn't get the first few, so I sent some disguised as junk mail. Did you see them?"

"D'oh!" said Gary, hitting his forehead with his hand. It seemed so obvious now. "So the letters were important?"

"You betcha. Why, those letters were your school supplies list. You're starting out high school soon, aren't cha? So I started sendin' them, and before long it was as plain as the nose on mah face that you weren't going to be gettin' any supplies without some help, so I traces yah down here. Oh, by tha way, Happy Birthday. You're eleven now, ain't you?" The man reached into his jacket and pulled out a Dairy Queen ice cream cake. (A/N: betcha didn't see the other product placements). It had a picture of Pichachu on it.

"Oh, boy, Pokemon!" Shouted Studley joyously. He ran over to Gary to grab some cake.

"Gross. Pokemon. I only picked out the cake because it was on sale." Shuddered the man. He pointed a ball-point pen at Studley, and there was a loud BOOM, and Studley's eyes grew big, and turquoise, and too-cutesy. Aunt Petulant screamed.

"I was trying to turn him into JiggleyPuff. Must be losing my touch. I'm Rhubarb Ragged, by the way, but you can call me Ragged, or The Ragster, if you prefer. I'm the Guy Who Mows The Lawn at Pigpimple." the man confided in Gary.

"Yeah, great. Um, why are you here?" Gary said, eyeing the possible exits. If he could make it to the mainland...

"Well, I'm here to tell you all about Pigpimple School of Warlocks and Weirdos, which you may have heard of..." Ragged began, pulling a broacher out of his pocket.

"Wait, Hold it right there. We already told you, he's not going anywhere! We aren't spending any money on some stupid liberal-arts school when there's a perfectly good..." Uncle Venom started.

"'Cuse me, I was speaking. Gary, you've got magical powers, and you belong to a community of magical people just like you, and you can go to school and have many exciting opportunities..."

"Woah. Awesome. So, I can, like, set stuff on fire and stuff?" Ragged nodded. "Sweet. Hey, how come you didn't tell me that my parents were not actually members of an obscure religious group, but wizards, and that someday I would be going to this really cool school to cultivate my powers?" asked Gary, who some how managed to understand everything that Ragged had just told him even though a regular kid wouldn't believe a word of it.

"Of course we didn't tell you! I hated my sister and all she stood for! Stupid, magic, tree-hugging hippie. And of course mom and dad didn't care! She gets one mysterious letter, and then she goes off, and no one ever thinks of me, I'm just the average kid! And then she comes back over the holidays, and how can some stupid science fair project compete with being able to levitate teacups! Perfect Silly and her stupid hat tricks! Freak!" Aunt Petulant, having finished pouring out the secrets of her neurosis, collapsed into tears. The others ignored her. Gary opened his letter.

"Oh, read it out loud, read it out loud, readitoutloud!" Shouted Studley-Puff in a high pitched voice. He floated a few feet in the air.

Dear Sir, or Madam, (it read)

Truly your forgiveness we implore. But the truth is we've been asking, oh, how often we've been asking, will you come unto our school this year, or, if you do not want to, could you please, send a message, preferably the date before... The term. Should you come, please have the items on the list that follows, for, you will need them in your classes. Only these, and nothing more. Term begins right after labor day.

Sincerely yours, Forevermore

_Mineral McDonalds._ Assistant Principal

"Is the whole list written in bad poetry?" asked Gary warily.

"Nah. Just the intro. Mineral doesn't write them, actually, Doubledoor and Smurf do. Still, not complaining. Smurf's one o' the teachers, and Doubledoor's the principal, o' course.. Good man. Kept telling the council that I was never indited...Anyway. Umm. So. You comin'? I've got plane tickets to Dublin, so hurry up."

"Okay. Bye, I guess." Gary waved at his cousin and uncle. He stooped over his still-sobbing aunt. "Umm. Aunty? I'm... Leaving...Now... Good...Bye. I'll... See...You...Next...Vacation."

"We'll swing by your place on the way to the airport and pick up your stuff, you okay with that?" Ragged asked on his way out the door.

"Yeah. But, how are we going to get there? We're like three hours away from anywhere." Gary wanted to know.

"Don't fret, little Gary. Why, we've got all night. So enjoy your last few days of anonymity." Ragged said as he led Gary into the kayak he had brought. Gary could see a yellow S.U.V. on shore.

"Whad'ya mean, anonymity? I'm not famous for something I can't remember, am I?"

"Gads, boy, have you been living in a closet or something? Didn't they tell you about your parents?"

"Yeah, they died in a freak plumbing accident. But they weren't famous or anything. They were just... Hey, wait! Are you saying that _everything_ the Dungbeetles told me was a lie?"

"Well, yes. They told you about Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, tooth fairy, and you still trust them?"

Gary felt heartbroken. "The Easter Bunny isn't real? But, yeah, I guess that you're right. I mean, they did lock me in a closet and exploit me and all. But anyway, tell me about my parents."

"All right. You asked for it. Once upon a time your parents, Thames and Silly Bother," Ragged read off an index card, "were being pursued by the most evil, feared, and bad s-ass wizard of all time. So they took you and went into hiding, but it wasn't enough.

"What was his name?" asked Gary.

"Well, nobody says it. Its bad luck, y'see."

"That's just superstition. Tell me!"

"No. Every kid in the secret community knows what it is."

"How do they, if nobody says it?"

"Never mind."

"I don't get it. Why is it bad luck?"

"It just is, OK?"

"Tell me! I want to know! You don't want me to not know what it is, do you?"

"No. You're not allowed to say it anyway."

"Why not? What's the worst that could happen?"

"Okay, fine. I'll tell you. His name was MoldyShorts." Ragged whispered dramatically.

"MoldyShorts?" Gary laughed. "Did his parents name him that? Why on earth would you name your kid MoldyShorts? I guess you have to be bad with a name like MoldyShorts."

"STOP SAYING THE NAME! We just call him What's-his-face."

"MoldyShorts. MoldyShorts. Hee hee hee."

"Anyway, back to my story. He found them, and there was a big scuffle, and at the end, your parents were dead, and this evil, feared, and bad s-ass wizard guy was gone. He had been terrorizing people for a good, long time, and he just vanished. His magical powers of doom were gone, and people said that..." Ragged lowered his voice dramatically, again, "that you were the one who did it. Nobody really knows how, except for one person."

"Who?" Gary asked. "Is it Doubledoor? You? My aunt? What's-his-face?"

"No. Its... the author. And not Kalliope Starmist, either. I'm talking about the original author. J. K. Rowling." A scream echoed throughout the car. Ragged and Gary looked around. "Anyway, she's the only one who knows the whole business, and everybody else is just going to have to guess."

"Cool! I'm an urban legend! Did MoldyShorts (giggle) die or something?"

"Well, the story changes depending on the storyteller. Some think he did. Others think that he roams through the hillsides on lonely nights, looking for revenge. There are those that say that he plays sax at run-down jazz clubs in Chicago. Most say he lives in a country doesn't expedite to the U.K., waiting for his chance to kill you. Me, I think he went to work for the U.S. government, doing cover-up work, faking landings on the moon and rigging elections."

"Sweetness. So, do you think that everywhere I go, I will stand out in the crowd, being admired, never having privacy, never really knowing who's a friend and who's just another suck-up, fearing for my life at every turn, because MoldyShorts still has some followers out there who want my blood?"

"I wouldn't worry about it. You can still be an average kid."

"Aw, Man! I wanted to be cool."

------------------------------------------------------------

Okay, there will be a short break, and when we return, Gary and Ragged will have made it to Dublin. 'Cause I am Lazy. Oh, yeah.


	5. These People Need More Sun

Chapter 5: These People Need More Sun

Okay, this one is for NekoRaven! (Hi, Raven!) She's one of my best friends, and there wouldn't be a Gary Bother if it wasn't for her! Okay, there would be a Gary Bother, but you wouldn't be reading it, because I never would have thought to post it on In fact, I never would have heard of if it wasn't for her. And she keeps reading and reviewing this, even though she couldn't pick Harry out of a line up of one. So, here's to NekoRaven! Yay.

Also, this chapter I will make a reference to The Cheesy Zelda Musical by Galaxy Girl. This is the best fic I've ever read, and if you have ever played Zelda, you must read it. It is no longer on , because its a script fic and the rulemakers are idiots. But you can still find it under her profile.

Gary and Ragged disembarked from the airport, pausing only to look at the little black letters that had appeared on the screen. "Dublin, Ireland. 11:16" they read. A well concealed orchestra played the national anthem. Gary took a deep breath and smelled the sweet whiskey perfume of the air. He was beginning to feel woozy already. Then he thought of something completely irrelevant.

Interrupting Ragged's opinions of the flight attendant, Gary said, "Ragged? Why haven't I heard of anyone with magical abilities before now?"

"Well, duh. Because we try to be secretive, because people in general are idiots, especially when it comes to magic. No, its easier if we just stay in the shadows. More fun that way. Plus, it creates office jobs."

"Really? How?"

"Well, we have a whole branch of the Bureau dedicated to Gurgle security."

"Gurgle?"

"Like a muggle." (a/n- it's in the dictionary now. Really!) Seeing Gary's expression, Ragged sighed. "A non-magical person, like your relatives. Anyway, like I was saying, we have El Presidente, but he's not doing a great job..."

"There's a president of magic?"

"No, he's _El Presidente_ of Magic, Cornsyrup Drudge, and he's an idiot. They wanted Doubledoor, but you have to pass some kind of sanity test, so we ended up with Drudge."

Ragged steered Gary around the streets until they came upon one of many little pubs that line the streets of Dublin. (Or so I have been told)

"Here we are, The Leaky Roof. Fine place, the Leaky Roof." Said Ragged nostalgically.

"Aye, and why be it that we came to be 'ere?" Said Gary, who had suddenly acquired a thick Irish accent.

"What's with the accent?"

"Oh, Ah thought meeby if ah sounded Irish, they would let me 'ave some booze." Gary paused. "That was more Scottish, wasn't it? Darn."

They entered the little pub, and Gary was amazed to find that it wasn't a run-down little establishment at all. The inside looked more like Applebee's meets Ramada Inn. He would have liked to look around, but Ragged was pushing him towards a back door.

"Hurry up, I don't want to talk to anybody. Someone offers me a drink, and we'll be here all night."

Gary stopped immediately. He would have even if a creepy, pale guy hadn't been blocking his path.

"H-H-Hello, little boy. W-W-Would you like some candy?" the strange asked. He had a strange speech impediment that caused him to stutter on capital letters.

"Candy? Where?" asked Gary, looking around.

"Oh, Gary, this is Professor Squirrel. Professor, this is Gary Bother." Ragged interrupted.

"Y-Y-Yes, so he is. I-I-I can see the scar. Sh-Sh-Shaped just like a devil, huh?"

"Hmm. I guess. I thought it looked more like a guitar."

Gary said nothing. His scar looked like different things to different people.

"Well, nice meeting you, but we've got to go." Ragged pushed by the stuttering teacher and out the door.

"What does he teach?" Gary asked when they were outside in a little yard for employees on a smoke break.

(a/n-due to my lack of imagination, subjects will keep the same names) "Defense Against the Dark Arts. We just call it Dada." Ragged answered distractedly. He threw his ball-point pen at the tall brick wall surrounding the little space, and it (the wall) disappeared.

Gary stared at the street before him. The sign proclaimed it to be Diagonal Side street. It was filled with all kinds of wondrous shops, and looked a little like one of those "historic" downtowns you see along the Ohio river and elsewhere. Except that they sold things like robes and poison ivy seeds instead of lame shirts. Gary got out the school supplies list he had with him.

Oh, yeah (it read) you need some school supplies.

God, I hate writing these lists. Ok, here goes:

You will need to buy your own uniform. This consists of:

at least 3 plain, black robes. They must come down _past_ your thighs. I do not care what fashion is "in", nobody wants to see your underwear!

1 pointy party hat. Whatever color you want. Why not?

1 pair of heavy work gloves. Trust me, you will want them.

1 winter trench coat, black

You will also need to buy your own books.

_See Jane Hex, Level 1 _by Encyclopedia Britannica

_The People's Magical History_ by the History Channel

_Hocus-Pocus Philosophy_ by Confuse-us

_Transfiguration for Dummies_ by Whoever Writes Those"For Dummies"books

_A Field Guide to Herbs_ by Raistin Majere

_The Magic Soup Cookbook_ by Klutz

_Dragons, Dragons and Other Magical Creatures_ by Someone Who is Not Eric Carl

_Defend Yourself Against Evil_ by Pai Mai

Also, you will need the following:

1 wand

Soup Pot...I mean Cualdrone.

1 set of those glass thingys

1 telescope

1 set of scales

You can also bring an animal. A child does not count as an animal.

Over and Out, Mineral McDonalds

"Okay, first stop is the bank, Smilehavvs. Y'know, you've got a small fortune buried in there somewhere."

"Really? What did my parents do for a living?"

"None of us really knew. We always kind of thought they were involved in the black market."

"Coolies. So tell me about the bank?"

"Well, its run by Blargs, a cousin of the Goblins. It's impossible to rob, because its chock full of Blarg magic, plus the occasional creature. And most of the cash is underground."

"So, what's the average interest rate?"

"We don't do 'interest' or 'loans' or anything."

"O-M-G! What are you, communists?!?"

Ragged looked around shiftily and changed the subject. "Look, we're here! Let's go get some cash."

Gary and Ragged walked through the doors of the limestone building they had just entered. Gary noticed the strange poem on the doors:

"Enter, Stranger, but take heed

For this bank is guarded by Noble Steed

Security. 24/7"

Gary found himself inside a large room with marble counters, taupe wallpaper, and grayish carpet. He also noticed the Blargs, gray creatures with bulging eyeballs, running about, along with a few token humans. A "we are an equal opportunity employer" sign hung above the counter. Ragged had a quick conversation with a Blarg, and he and Gary were ushered through a door.

"I hope you don't mind if we pick something up here. It's Pigpimple business."

Gary shook his head. He was standing in a scene from a Donkey Kong game, with a rickety cart ready to plunge down a dubious track into eternal darkness. And the Blarg was motioning for Gary to get in this death trap. Gary heard something in the depths hiss "My preciousss..."

So, one incredible roller coaster ride later, Gary was standing in front of his own private inheritance. A whole lot of precious metal.

"Ok, quick vocab. This," Ragged held up an oval shaped copper coin, "is a KaNut. There are 31 Kanuts to a Simple," He held up a silver coin, "and 18 Simples to a Gallon." He held up a gold coin. "That should do it for now. Good luck with your finances."

So Gary threw some coins in a bag and they set off on Ragged's errand. Gary wondered briefly if Ragged had meant "knuts". Probably. Oh well.

The package Ragged had to pick up turned out to be heavily wrapped in toilet paper, so he didn't get to see what it was. It was the only item in a safe guarded by armed Blargs. So it must be important, Gary thought. But he had a short attention span and was soon thinking of more interesting things.

Once out of the bank, they went to a bookstore. Gary reflected that they were stopping at the most boring stores ever, and he was still having the time of his life. They stopped at a cauldron supply store, and then at a pharmacy, to buy potion ingredients, which hadn't been mentioned on the list.

"Why aren't those on the list, Ragged? And why did they spell cauldron wrong, too?"

"Well, McDonald and Smurf have a rivalry going on. You'll find out about it soon, trust me. And now it's time to get your uniform. I'll go for ice-cream."

Gary turned around, but Ragged had disappeared. So Gary entered Madam Gabe's on his own. He was greeted by a very nice old lady who had him stand next to a pale boy with hair so white, it had to be dyed. _These people need to get more sun_. Gary thought, thinking of Prof. Squirrel.

"'Sup." The boy greeted him. Gary slowly realized that he was talking to him.

"Oh! Um...Hi." Gary smiled. Couldn't hurt to be nice.

"So, are you going to Pigpimple this year, too?"

"Yeah, it's my first year..."

"Mine too. Do you play Squid-itch? I was hoping to get on the house team, but they came up with this absolutely stupid rule about first-years not being allowed to play. Do you play?"

"No. Um, this may be a stupid question, but what is..." Gary started, but Ragged was standing outside the window, waving ice-cream cones.

"Why, I say! Isn't that the guy who mows the lawn at Pigpimple? I hear they've been trying to fire him for ages, but he won't leave, and that every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his own bed."

Gary, fighting back an impulse to use the phrase _"I say_", blurted out, "Well, I think he's brilliant."

"I know! Isn't he awesome?"

To make a long story short, Gary bought his clothes and left. He and Ragged had ice cream, and Ragged explained that Squid-Itch was a huge sport in the magical community, and that it was played on flying mops, and that he couldn't explain the rules very well. Then Ragged dropped Gary off at Olivegarden's Wand and Staff Shoppe, and went to buy Gary a birthday present.

Olivegarden's was a dusty little place with a small stool to sit on and thousands of shelves with little drawers in them. A blue crystal staff hung next to a wooden one with a crystal ball on top. The sounds of the street stopped when Gary closed the door. The only sound came from somewhere behind the shelves. It was someone singing. "You waited for me for 7 years....oh, Sheik."

Gary was starting to get scared when an older gentleman who resembled a chibi-style animae character walked out, still humming the plagiarized blurb from Galaxy Girl's "Hey, Ocarina, the Cheesy Zelda Musical", which Kalliope Starmist had no part in writing.

"These fangirl urges that I CANNOT FACE!" He shrieked as he spun around and bumped into Gary. "OH! A customer! Do you want a wand?"

"Umm, yeah. I guess." Gary was severely weirded out.

"Ah, yes, you'd be Gary Bother. I remember your parents well. Your mother's wand was exactly 10 4/7 inches long, (a/n-wait, the British don't use U.S. customary units...)made of solid walnut, with a dolphin-shaped blemish on the handle. Good wand for charm work. Very charming herself. Yup. And your father's wand was made of birch, 8 inches on the dot. Very nice wand, good for transfiguration. Of course, he could transform into a... oh, sorry. I'm just rambling about nothing."

"Umm, yeah. Did you know my parents?" Gary said, while wishing very much that Ragged would get back. Olivegarden had been staring at him with those creepy blue chibi eyes without blinking, and he was starting to get very very scared.

"No, but I stalked them and everyone else that ever bought a wand from me. Its my hobby, aside from playing Nintendo. You know, come to think of it, your scar looks a bit like a '64 controller. I sold the wand that did that. Sorry, kiddo. It was a nice wand. Pinewood, 13 3/5 inches long. But to business." The man turned towards the shelves as Gary made a noncommittal noise. "Very precise business, matching a wand to an owner. Everything has to be just perfect."

This didn't look like the case to Gary. The shop keeper would grab a wand a random, throw it at Gary, and Gary would wave it around.

"Oh, what about this one? Its Brazilian mahogany with fairy hair in the center."

"Very nice...BRAZILIAN MAHOGANY? You're decimating the rainforest to make these?"

"No, we have an environment-friendly policy. I find that...Gary? Where did you go?"

Gary, afraid of being treated to another rant, had decided to leave the eccentric shop keeper to his own devices, and find a wand on his own. He randomly picked one and waved it around. A carefully detailed model of Hyrule Castle sitting on the window sill exploded. Mr. Olivegarden came running.

"Ah, found one, have you? It must be fate. No one as inexperienced as yourself would be able to discover the right wand without destiny having a hand in it...oh, interesting choice." When Gary did not seem interested in this comment, the wandmaker went on. "The wand you now hold in your hands is 9 2/5 inches, made of ivy wood, with a quetzal's tail feather in it. From the very same quetzal who's feather made the wand that gave you your scar and killed your parents. Interesting, hmm? How fate works?" Gary had disappeared. He was out in the street with his new wand, waiting for Ragged. He would mail the money later. As long as he was away from Mr. Olivegarden, he didn't care.

Ragged came with a birthday present, namely, a carrier pigeon. Apparently the magical community didn't prefer the traditional mail system, and after the Ed incident, Gary could sympathize.

"Sorry about leaving you on your own so much. I'm not allowed back in certain shops...Well, here's a ticket for the school jet. Term starts after Labor day. It's all on the ticket. See ya then." Ragged said as he dropped Gary off back at the Dungbeetles. "I know that you won't need any help getting there, probably on your own, for the first time. Even though you're just a little kid who has no idea what's going on."

"Yeah, thanks a lot." Ragged didn't notice the sarcasm. Ragged rarely did.


	6. On the Road Again

Chapter 6: On the Road Again

WOOT! I have a confession to make. When I finished this chapter the first time, I had gone over to a friend's house, and I am ashamed to admit, but we did some anime. Young people, don't make the same mistakes I did. Only do anime in small, healthy doses, preferably under supervision. Don't watch and write. Anyway, I've re-done the last bit of this chapter.

Dedicated to MAD magazine, the re-inventors of the corny spoof name. MAD rocks my world. (I get a commission if you subscribe. Or at least, I _should_ get a commission.)

By the way, MAD readers, did you notice the mistake in issue 449? Page 26 says that Sirius is Harry's uncle. (Which he's not) Blank stare from readers WELL? Don't you care? Blank stares continue I'm not crazy. Or obsessed. Really. Readers slowly back away Grr.

The bullet-riddled mini fridge and microwave had been laid to rest in the back of Gary's closet, replaced by his new school things and his pet carrier pigeon, Shrubwing.

Gary had tried to memorize his new books to so that he would be up to speed at school, but was to nervous to. So instead he threw chopsticks at the ceiling. The record for most stuck stands at 23.

Gary had been avoiding his relatives. They weren't entirely sure if he had even come back from his trip to Dublin. Gary didn't feel like enlightening them. God alone knows what they would do to him.

But, alas, the fateful day came when he had to ask them for a ride to the train station. He walked downstairs quietly, snuck up behind his uncle, and whispered, "Uncle Venom? Will you give me a ride to the train station tomorrow?"

His relatives jumped. Studley floated a few feet in the air. The effects of the Poke-curse were still wearing off. Petulant burst into tears, muttering something about never saying goodbye. Venom answered him.

"You're still here? I thought that Ragged fellow took care of you... A ride? Sure, whatever gets you out of the house."

"Yippie!" yelled Gary as he jumped for joy.

The next morning found Gary lugging his suitcase around a train station, wincing as he stepped on his sprained ankle. Never jump for joy without looking behind you first.

Gary took a look at his ticket. "Platform -9.75. Hey, Uncle Venom, where is..." But the Dungbeetles, seeing that their 11-year-old nephew was completely lost, had left to go get ice cream. Mocha ice cream. Yum.

So little Gary ran off looking for platform negative 9.75. Which didn't go very well. There was a sign for a Platform (positive) 9.75, but it lead into a wall that was covered with "police line, do not cross" tape, and there was no platform between platform -9 and -10. Gary ended up standing around looking for a miracle.

And indeed, a Ford Miracle pulled up to the station and deposited a large group of people, all with hazel hair and red eyes. I mean red eyes and hazel hair. No, I mean eye hair and..no, that's not it either. Oh well. You know what I mean. There were six people, a matronly woman holding a little girl with flaming hazel eye hair... Damn it. Let me try that again. There was a matronly woman holding a little girl by the hand and four boys, each with a large amount of luggage. Gary probably wouldn't have looked at them twice, except that the girl was arguing with her mother in a loud voice, and it attracted his attention.

"Why can't I go to school? I wouldn't make any trouble! I'd be a good little duckling! PLEASE?" She asked, giving her mother Bambi eyes. The boys groaned, and the woman sighed.

"I told you already! You're too young. And normal kids don't look forward to school."

"So? WHO SAID I HAD TOO BE NORMAL? HUH? HUH?" the girl raised her voice a little.

"Be quiet, Brandy. I have a reputation here, and I don't need my bratty little sister to ruin it!" The tallest boy whispered in an undertone. He had on these hideous rimless glasses and they made him look like he had a computer generated face. Or at least, that's what Gary thought they looked like.

"Mum, Pukey called me a brat! I don't think he should be allowed to do that! Mom, make him stop! Make him stop!" the girl carefully raised her voice one decibel.

"Brandy, you've been at this all the way here." One of the boys moaned.

"So shut your pie hole." A third one, who looked like the twin of the former speaker, said mildly. The girl immediately stopped.

"Now, where did Pukey go?" The mother asked. "Gred? Forge? Did you see where he got to?"

"He already got on the platform. Gosh!" said the fourth boy, who was obviously the youngest, even though he was almost as tall as Gred and Forge. Gary looked around and realized that he had been following the family without thinking. He found himself near the police line wall labeled 9.75.

"I'd better go after him. Gred, watch your sister." The woman said, handing Brandy off to one of the twins. "Count to ten and then follow me." She then walked off into a crowd of tourists.

One of the twins turned to his sister. "Hey, nice job getting rid of the prat-fect. Maybe someday we'll acknowledge your existence. Speaking of which, Hey, Donikins? Ready for your first day of school?" He said in a mock-caring voice to his younger brother.

"Don't call me Donikins. What are you trying to do, ruin my life?" Said the boy, looking like he wanted to disappear. And he did. He grabbed his trunk and ran off towards the "Police-line"-taped wall. The others ignored him.

Gary was so fascinated by this slightly dysfunctional family that he decided to ask them if they knew where platform -9.75 was. So he walked up to them.

"Hey, do you know where platform negative 9.75 is? Or where the train to Pigpimple is?" He asked.

The boys looked at him as if he were a slightly retarded alien. The little girl said "Oh, are you going to Pigpimple? I wish I could go. We're getting there on the Pigpimple Espresso, so we're getting on a different platform. We're getting on platform..."

"Brandy, please, not now." One of the boys shushed her before turning his attention to Gary. "Lemme see your ticket." He grabbed the ticket out of Gary's hand and looked at it. His twin looked over his shoulder and started laughing.

"Poor kid. You starting your first year?" Gary nodded. "Ok. That explains it. Your ticket has a misprint. Its just plain old 9.75. Didn't any one tell you how to get to the train?" Before Gary could answer, he continued "I'm Gred Wheezy, by the way, and this is Forge. And this is Brandy-

"-our little sister, but don't let on." Forge finished. "Say, I like you, kid. What's your name?"

"Gary."

"'Gary dot dot dot' the spy said, not wanting to give his full name to the enemy." Forge said dramatically.

"Bother."

"We're just joking with you. We don't think you're a spy. You aren't, are you?" Gred said, laughing.

"No, Gary Bother is my name." Gary elaborated, not wanting to offend his new friends.

"Really?" Brandy squealed. "Wow! Wait till I tell dad. I wish I was going to school this year! Then I could tell people I was in Gary Bother's graduating class. Wouldn't that be cool. Don is so lucky!"

Forge was consulting his watch. "Yeah, yeah, Brandy. Hey, we'd better go or we won't have time so say bye to dear old mother." He grabbed his sister and ran straight at the wall labeled Platform 9.75, and disappeared.

"Right. Now, Gary, you just walk through the wall. Won't hurt. I promise." But Gary wasn't worried about that.

"But it says that it's a police line, and we aren't supposed to cross! What if I get in trouble?" Gred laughed, but Gary hadn't been joking.

"Come on. You don't want to miss your train, do ya?"

So, to make a long story short (readers: Too late) Gary got on the platform and stood by the reunited Wheezies, who completely ignored him. Pukey came running up, gave his mother a quick peck, and said goodbye very quickly, as though he really didn't want to be seen with her. But she grabbed him by the arm.

"Pukey, now, is that any way to treat your mother? I'm not going to be seeing you for about a year! Come on, give me a proper hug."

Pukey groaned. "Mother. I uhmafugle." He didn't finish his sentence because his mother was trying to smother him.

"Pukey, don't forget to watch out for your little brothers. Try and keep Gred and Forge out of trouble. And don't let Don take after them. You be a positive roll model for him. And don't forget to write. And make sure they brush their teeth before going to bed every night. And make sure they do their homework on time."

"Mom! He's our brother, not our nanny!"

"Mother, you do realize that I'm a prefect now, and I have stuff I need to do besides watch after my little brothers."

"Are you a prefect? Why, I've forgotten already!" Gred said sarcastically.

"Yeah, you only reminded us every fifteen minutes today." Forge said

"Instead of every two seconds,"

"Like you did the rest of the summer."

"Any way, mom, he's just going to act like we aren't related once you're out of sight."

"Yeah. He can be a real prat when he wants to be."

"Which is all the time."

Mrs. Wheezy, however, was not paying attention to the twins. She was busy smoothing out Don's hair, much against his will.

"Hold still, Don! I'm not sending you off looking like you were raised by wolves. I'm going to miss you! The house is going to be so lonely with all you kids gone!"

"And what am I? Chopped liver? Admit it mom, you wouldn't notice if I was at school or not!" Brandy broke in.

"No, Brandy, you stay with your poor old mother." One of the twins started.

"Yes, be a comfort to our parents in their old age." The other added. Mrs. Wheezy whapped them with her handbag.

"OW! Mom, stop it. Ow!"

"Anyway, Brandy, I think one Wheezy a year is about all poor Pigpimple can handle. It almost killed them when we showed up! Ouch! Mom!"

Gary decided to put his luggage on the train. He passed your usual assortment of school children, including an unfortunate child who was supposed to be at Platform 9 3/4, going to Hogwarts. If she ever got there or not, no one really knows.

So Gary found an empty compartment and sat around for a while. Then the train set off and Gred, Forge and Don stopped in.

"Gary, this is Don. Don, this is Gary. You guys should stick together." Gred said.

"I don't even know who this guy is!" Don said, sitting down quickly.

"This is Gary Bother, Don. He's like family to us." Forge said. He and Gred stopped halfway out the door, and Forge turned around and said to Gary, "Gary, Gred and Forge offer you their protection." Then they left.

Don pulled out a Game boy and started playing. Gary watched him.

"What game are you playing?"

"Fire Emblem, whaddaya think?"

Gary moved over to see the screen. "Cool."

Don turned off the game and looked up. "So, are you, like, y'know, THE Gary Bother?"

"Yeah. I guess."

"Cool. Is it true that you have this weird scar?"

Gary pulled back his bangs. "See for yourself."

"Awesome. It looks kinda like a... Argh. Scratchers! Sit still!"

"A Scratchers?"

"No, Scratchers is my pet gerbil. He used to be Pukey's, and it permanently affected his brain, I think." And Don pulled a little graying rodent out of his pocket. "All he really does is squeak and sleep. And eat. He's a bit boring. Dollar says that one of these days we'll find out that Scratchers is linked to some unsolved murder or something, just to make up for how dull he is."

"Who's Dollar?"

"He's my brother. I have about an infinity of them."

"Are they all magic and stuff?" Don nodded. "That must be really cool."

"No. It sucks. Like, really bad. Like, I'm the youngest boy, so I never get anything new. All my junk is hand me downs. Even my wand." Don held up the offending school supply. "It used to be Curly's. And my uniform used to be Dollar's. And my books are stolen from the public library. Heck, my pet gerbil is a hand me down!"

Gary got the impression that Don had been wanting to say this for a very long time. "So, how many brothers do you have?"

"Well, there's Dollar. He used to be head boy, but he's getting the help he needs. He works in the Middle East as a banker. It sounds boring, but it's not. Then there's Curly. He was like, the most awesome Squiditch player ever when he was at school. He could have gone pro. But Dad didn't want him to, so now he's in some little Balkan country, studying magical creatures. He wants to go into some dragon related field. It sounds exciting, but it's not. And you probably met Pukey. He's only the world's most pompous jerk. He wants to go into politics. So watch out. If you so much as breath in a way that could damage his 'reputation', he will kill you. And now that he's a prefect it will be that much easier for him. Then there's Gred and Forge. They're alright. They run the Pigpimple black market. And then there's Brandy, but don't worry about her. She won't be coming to school for a while."

"So, you probably already have it made at school. What with everybody knowing who you are and junk. I'm going to die when I get there. I hate making friends. And it doesn't help that I have no clue what is going on. I mean, I just found out that there was a magical community about a week ago."

"Hey, don't worry about it. There are a bunch of gurgle born kids running around. And it's not like I'm going to have it easy or something. I just know that every teacher there is going to call me by my brothers' names. And I have to find something to be good at that they haven't done yet. And I hate making friends too. People are so weird." Don turned back to his game. Gary watched him for a while.

"Studley, my cousin, has a bunch of games. But he doesn't like RPG's, so we never get any. Are they any fun?"

"Fire Emblem is only, like, the best game ever! I can't believe that you've never heard of it." The game made a sound like a train hitting a cow, and Don started tapping buttons furiously. "NO! Darn it! Health points, health points! NOOOOO! And I didn't even save. Gosh!" He looked up at Gary. "Do you want to play? It's pretty fun once you get the hang of it. I have a spare file here..."

"Yeah, sure." Gary grabbed the hand held video device and preceded to tap buttons like a mad man. "Ok, what do I do now?"

"Go talk to that guy with the funky hair. No, to your left. Now go down... him."

So they played for a few hours, stopping only when Gary went to buy some chocolate. (A/n I'll think of some names for the candy in a bit, when I'm feeling more creative.) Then the batteries went dead.

"Don? What happened to scantly-clad woman?"

Don looked over. "The batteries went out. Dang it! Maybe Gred can get me some more at school." Gary looked at him funny. "Mum doesn't want me playing with 'Gurgle toys'. So I have to buy them myself when she's not around. Not many people at school even know what a Game Boy is."

Gary grabbed a Palmer's Solid 'Chocolate' Lizard and inhaled it. Palmers makes the best chocolate flavored substance ever. But something came with the chocolate lizard. And Gary choked on it. Don patted him on the back a few times before he hocked it up.

"Bleah. Gross. What the heck is that?"

"It's a trading card. They all come with them. It started as some kind of 'teach our kids history' thing, and it really caught on. Sorry. I forgot you didn't know."

Gary turned over the moist piece of paper in his hand. There was a picture of some old dude on one side and a quick facts thing on the other. It read (she quoth,): Arby Doubledoor. Has done various things that a kid like you wouldn't care about, including defeating a really evil dude in 1945, finding a cure for ear cancer, getting a very high score on Pac Man, and being Ricola Flannel's lab partner during high school Alchemy 101. He enjoys river dancing and streaking. Doubledoor is currently the Principal of Pigpimple School of Warlocks and Weirdos.

Gary read over the card without interest a few times. "Who is this guy? Is this card pretty rare? Can I sell it on Ebay?"

"Not really. I've heard that he has a deal with Palmers, and the only cards that you get when you buy them on the school train are his. He's this eccentric loony who just does what ever he wants. He's awesome. I hear that he was into some heavy stuff in the 60's. If you get my drift."

"Sweet. So. What's going on in the good old secret community?"

"Not much. Someone tried to rob a bank, but they didn't get any money. I'm still at large, though." Gary, being a little slow, stared at him. "I'm joking, Gary."

Just then, the door slammed open dramatically. A girl with fizzy brown hair walked in.

"Hey, have you seen a caiman? Someone's lost one." Don and Gary, still unsure why this girl was talking to them, continued to stare. "A Caiman is a small lizard-like creature, a member of the Alligatoridae family. They are native to Central and South America and can grow to be..."

"We know what a caiman is. We just haven't seen one around. We will tell you if we do." Don interrupted, rather rudely.

"Ok. My name's HerMoney Gangrene. It's nice to meet you. I'm trying to talk to as many people as possible, because I don't know anyone here, really. I only found out that I was magical about a month ago. Nobody in my family is, and it was really weird when these wackos sent me this letter, but then I've always been able to do these weird things, so we decided to find out about it, and here I am. I'm all nervous, because I don't any one to think of me as some kind of Gurgle bumpkin. I've memorized all the course books. I only hope to God it will be enough." She had been talking very quickly, but she did strike a pose and say the last line very dramatically. "What are your names?"

"Well, I'm Don Wheezy. And this is Gary Bother."

"THE Gary Bother? Really? You're mentioned in about six of the online news groups I subscribed to, and in_ Notable Moments of Magical History_."

"Am I really? I should sue someone."

Don, meanwhile, was getting bored. "Hey, look, Hermoney. What are you doing in here in the first place, anyway?"

"I was making a brief cameo. The author wants to put me in here now to avoid hassle later. So now that you know that I'm an intelligent overachiever, goodbye." And then she left.

"Why even bother to introduce her? I mean, she's just going to be another class member, right?" Don asked in an annoyed tone.

Gary sighed. He had the feeling that Hermoney was going to be a lot more important than Don liked to think. "I don't know. But I hope that's the end of people the author has to introduce. I'm getting sick of it. Plus the chapter is getting kinda long."

"You can say that again, kid." The door opened once again, and the creepy pale kid from chapter five entered, along with two kids who looked like they had been shaving since fourth grade. "I say, its that weird kid from Madame Gabes! Remember me?"

"Yeah, I do. I don't think I caught your name, though."

"Oh, sorry. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Malfunction. Drooling Malfuntcion."

Don and Gary burst out laughing.

"Yeah, and I'm Bond. James Bond." Giggled Gary.

"And I'm Ken. Chic Ken." Chortled Don.

"ITS NOT FUNNY! Like I was saying, these are my chums, Lobster and Doily. They have first names, but who cares."

"Yeah. I'm Bother, Gary Bother. And this is Wheezy. Don Wheezy." Gary said through tears of laughter.

"Hey, stop laughing. Its not funny! I was going to offer you the hand of friendship..."

Gary checked his clipboard. "Sorry. I've already made three friends, so you'll have to come back tomorrow. There is an opening in enemies, though."

"And you're always interrupting me, too. Fine! I was going to ask you to join the secret club of Pigpimple's elite, but if you would rather hang out with some smelly commoners like the Wheezies, then be my guest!" Drooling turned to his friends. "Let's go. And what the hell is this rat doing in here?" He asked, picking up Scratchers and throwing him at Doylie. Doylie caught him, but dropped him immediately, as it turned out that, when frightened, Scratchers preferred to pee on the enemy. Doylie and Lobster shrieked like little girls and ran out of the room.

"Such disgusting boys. I hope their parents don't know how they act at school."

"Did you say something, Don?" Gary asked.

"No. Did you?"

"No. That's odd. I could have sworn I heard a voice."

But soon enough they were at the station, leaving the bags because the PA system said so. And you should always do what the P.A. system tells you to. Everybody got off the train, and Gary found a caiman wandering around. He picked it up and took it over to Hermoney, who directed him to a boy named Shrivel Tallpants, who cried out "Trowel!" joyously and introduced himself and all that. Then Gary, Don, Shrivel, Hermoney, and a bunch of other first years were directed over to a rickety looking dock. A person whom Gary recognized as Ragged helped them aboard rickety looking row boats, and they sailed off across a lake, which offered a nice view of an ancient looking castle. They ended up at another rickety looking dock, and walked up rickety looking steps until they got to the doors.

At this point, they were exhausted, because, as you probably know, it is not good for you to sit on a train and eat Palmer's chocolate lizards for six hours and then engage in physical activity. And the author was also exhausted from writing all this, and she passed out on the keyboard, leaving weird little words down the page. Hg bc ljk;j c,jjkggkrclllljn lkjnjd '

kjd fd lkmjndkkka Mnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

But then she woke up and posted this. But you probably realize that.


End file.
